


Love's Musketeer, Chapter 11

by Angelise (angelise7)



Series: Love's Musketeer [11]
Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas, The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Read the series notes!, Romance, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-11
Updated: 2003-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:51:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Duke requests a companion for the night and gets more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's Musketeer, Chapter 11

The night surrounded London in a cloak of heavy silence as a full moon broke through the clouds and revealed the few brave individuals wandering the deserted avenues. A certain gentleman kept to the shadows, moving quickly to an obscure establishment deep in the heart of the city. With a glance behind him, he knocked on the door, offered a password and revealed his face to the man guarding the entrance. 

"Sunset." 

The door was thrown open. "Welcome, my Lord. It is a pleasure to have you with us again." Cape and hat were taken as a welcoming handshake was exchanged. "And how may we serve you tonight, sir?" 

The man answered softly, his low pitch voice tinged with weariness. "Walter, I would appreciate a glass of your finest brandy and a patient man to enjoy it with." 

"Excellent choice, my Lord. Do you wish David to escort you upstairs?" The guardian of the establishment waved at the slender youth standing nearby. A sociable pat on his shoulder declined his offer. 

"Thank you, dear friend but I would like to stroll through the sitting rooms and see who is here. And Walter? Please lay on a healthy fire in the hearth. Winter is teasing us with a light chill tonight." 

"As you wish, sir." 

The Duke of Buckingham walked through room after room, nodding a silent hello to various couples, pausing occasionally for several moments to speak quietly with old acquaintances. Brief hugs and kisses were exchanged and memories of past love relived. Smiling sadly, Buckingham moved upstairs to his private apartment, hesitating in the hallway. A twinge of jealousy ran through him at the sounds of pleasure he could hear coming from behind closed doors. Ignoring the emptiness in his heart, he ran his hand through his hair and turned his thoughts to the details of tomorrow's affair. The procurement of the innocent Musketeer was fraught with hidden dangers and the Duke's confidence waned with each passing moment. 

Pulling out his key, Buckingham stared at it, contemplating returning to his estate. Lost in thought, he loosened the brocade collar that was suddenly too tight and absently massaged the tenseness from his neck. 

"Allow me," a smoky voice whispered. 

Strong hands kneaded tightly knotted muscles as mysterious fingers strayed and stroked across the Duke's shoulders, slowly tracing the straight line of his back. "I believe you requested a _patient_ man," a breath of warm air teased the Duke's ear. Wandering hands circled the Englishman's narrow waist, slipping inside the heavy garment of his coat and caressing the warm skin below. 

Untangling himself, the Duke groaned and clumsily unlocked the door. A gentle light greeted them, the fireplace offering its heat and radiance to the large room. Moving shakily toward the hearth, Buckingham stoked the flame and welcomed the stranger in. 

"My name is---" 

An arm reached around him, dark fingers touching his lips, halting his words. "No names. Please." 

Buckingham turned, curious at the request of anonymity but his inquisitive mind went blank when he beheld the handsome stranger. A dark-skinned man, a broad shouldered warrior stood before him, the midnight color of his skin contrasted with the white linen of his simple attire and, from the fit of his clothes, the Duke knew the stranger was a sturdy, well-muscled man. Moving closer, he examined his handsome features, noting the full lips, the strong jaw, the ebony curls. A restless sigh left him as he felt himself drawn to the man, his hunger reflected in the deep indigo eyes that observed him. 

Suddenly, the stranger smiled at him and touched a single finger to the exposed skin at the Duke's open collar. "I believe a brandy awaits you." 

Buckingham watched as the striking newcomer lifted a snifter of brandy to his lips and took the first sip. Turning the glass, he offered the liquor, silently encouraging the Duke to drink from his side of the crystal goblet. Locking glances, Buckingham rested his mouth against the warmth of the glass and slowly savored the brandy, appreciating the heady flavor of not only the shimmering bronze liquid but also that of the dark stranger. 

Reaching a decision, the Duke pulled his unknown visitor into his arms. "Join me," he whispered, smiling invitingly as he captured a taste of the brandy and boldly shared it with the man. 

The brandy glass was tossed aside as their lips clung wetly, their tongues searching and tangling with each other. Hands and fingers joined in the dance, seeking out sensitive areas, muscular strength, straining flesh. Clothes were hastily removed, finally allowing skin to glide over skin. Buckingham shuddered as a silent mouth sketched a sensual journey across his chest, pausing to nourish its hunger at a rigid nipple. The Duke's moans resonated through the room, his body desperate with need, his trembling hands guiding the greedy mouth back to his own. 

The stranger became the aggressor, steering the Englishman to the large bed, hidden in the shadows. He was lowered down into its softness, the ebony-skinned warrior following without hesitation, his weight a welcome embrace as Buckingham wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer. The Duke's trembling increased when his lover's greedy lips attacked, leaving a trail of passion marks across his chest. He tried to strangle a moan as his thighs were teasingly stroked and nudged apart. The varying textures of his manhood were investigated, memorized by a blazing mouth and searing fingers, a masculine gateway worshipfully prepared as lingering caresses tempted a noble shaft. 

Buckingham drew the stranger to him, savoring his smoky taste, leaving his own brand of ownership on the dark skin that fascinated him. His teeth marked a nipple and his body sang with sweet anticipation as midnight steel slowly breeched his most intimate of openings. He cried out as pain became pleasure and the heat that seared his flesh, seared his brain, scattering his thoughts as his body was overtaken by the blazing inferno of lust. 

The handsome stranger was merciless, driving deeper, harder, faster. His strength lifted the Duke, pulling him upright, allowing him the freedom to feed on swollen English lips. Whispering words that inflamed and tortured, his thrusts grew frantic, nearly pushing Buckingham off the mattress. 

A fire roared out of control as liquid heat flowed into his body and the Duke tangled his fingers in short wiry curls, demanding his own satisfaction. His hips searched for an answering friction, his manhood craving the touch that would send him into sweet oblivion. Buckingham groaned with frustration when his body realized it was being refused release. He arched off the bed in surprise, his erection swallowed, then unexpectedly released. His scream fractured the night, ending abruptly when his mouth was stuffed with a gag, his naked body held against the bed by a bruising grip that did not belong to his companion of the night. 

The Duke's eyes flew open and widened with panic. Confused anger ripped through him as he watched his silent warrior, standing across the room, replacing his garments, his demeanor unconcerned and unafraid. Buckingham screamed his frustration but the gag muffed the sound. The noise caught the black man's attention and he lifted his head to meet the Duke's eyes. Guilt darkened his gaze with a hint of lingering shame but before he could offer an explanation, an elegantly dressed stranger, followed by a giant of a man came into view and guided his lover out of the room. 

Pain broke through the bewildered haze that surrounded his mind and Buckingham looked down, astonished to find a crimson path of blood trickling across his pale flesh. He lifted his eyes and encountered a sword, its blade hovering above his heart. His attacker remained faceless as a blindfold immediately shrouded his eyes. He began to struggle against the weight that still straddled his lower body and the sword marked him again, warning him against any further attempts at rebelling his capture. 

The harshness of his breathing deafened him, masking the sounds of movements inside the room. The man that was holding him down bound his arms and legs, moving only once he was satisfied his prisoner could not move. His naked body was then wrapped in the silken bed sheets and a hot breath blasted across his face, the voice heavily accented, the angry words piercing his heart with fear. 

"You English dog. Say your prayers for you will soon join your accomplice, the Cardinal, in Hell." 

Buckingham felt the edge of the sword slide across his throat. 

"Remember the name Athos, dear Duke. It will be the last word you scream when you die." 

+++++++ 

Porthos slipped into their quarters, closing the door quietly. He was instantly embraced by his lover, Aramis surrounding him in a gentle hug. Leaning down, he kissed the concerned priest and whispered reassuring endearments as he returned the embrace. Holding Aramis close, the large man moved to where Athos and Henri were sitting at a table and pulled out several documents, spreading them out so that all present could examine what he had been given. 

"It took a little time but I was finally able to procure the designs for the prison." Porthos squeezed the hand clutching his as he sat down bedside his Captain. 

"Where is he?" Athos demanded impatiently. 

Porthos leaned over and pointed to the far corner of the plan his leader held. "Here. D'Artagnan's being kept in this area. It is seldom used... kept only for those whose identity must remain secret." 

Athos lifted his gaze from the prison layout and silently questioned his friend. Understanding the unspoken request, Porthos shook his head. "My source assures me our young Gascon has not been harmed and appears to be in fairly good spirits." The black giant ran a hand over his face, his features sobering. 

"What is it?" Athos looked closely at the older Musketeer, sensing his quickened heartbeat. 

Aramis also noted his lover's apprehension and moved nearer, caressing the side of Porthos' face. "What is it? What's wrong? 

The tall Musketeer leaned into the Aramis' touch, taking a few seconds of comfort before releasing a deep sigh and facing his oldest friend. "I fear we have taken on an impossible task, Athos. D'Artagnan is heavily guarded. A royal convoy of soldiers has been assigned to him." Porthos looked down at the prison layout and traced an area that included D'Artagnan's cell. "There are at least three guards keeping a constant watch on our comrade. One is positioned outside the cell itself. The remaining two patrol the corridor leading to it." 

Henri set down his tankard of beer and studied the plans before him. After a moment he looked up at Porthos. "Can your source discover when they change the guards? That would be the perfect time for our attack." 

Porthos shook his head, his hand fondly tangling in the soft strands of his lover's hair. "Unfortunately, my friend, no. My source is under the impression that there is no set time to the convoys' assignments. They come and go without warning." 

Porthos looked at Athos, trying to discern the thoughts behind those unfathomable blue eyes. "We would have no idea when it was safe to make our move. But even with these insurmountable odds against us, make our move we must." 

The scent of fear assaulted his nose and Athos immediately grabbed Porthos' arm, gripping it so hard a grimace appeared on the older man's face. "You are holding something back. Spit it out, Porthos." 

"There are whispers in the local taverns of a hanging. The hanging of a French spy." Porthos clenched his jaw against the pain in his arm. "It is D'Artagnan they speak of." 

A muted howl of anguish escaped him and Athos quickly released his hold, shielding his face from his comrades with his hands. Moments passed as he struggled to regain control of his emotions. Finally, he lowered his hands and his dark gaze turned to the documents scattered across the table in front of him. "Leave me," he ordered brusquely. 

Aramis tugged Porthos toward a shadowed bedchamber, leaving Henri alone with Athos. The newest member of the famed group looked around, his eyes straying down the hall to where their prisoner was being kept. Moving slowly as to prevent disturbing the solemn man beside him, Henri left the table. He found himself standing outside a locked room, his hand fingering the key that would open the door. A nagging discomfort caught his attention and he frowned as he slid his hand inside his tunic and touched the nipple that still ached from the mark of passion Buckingham had placed upon it. 

Sparing one last glance at Athos, Henri opened the door and watched as the outside light spilled across the floor and over the sleeping form of the Duke of Buckingham. He quickly closed to the door and took a seat next to the bed. Candlelight revealed that the Englishman remained gagged and bound. A bruise was spreading across the left side of his face, a testament to Athos' rendering blow of unconsciousness. Without thought the young Musketeer reached out and tenderly brushed his fingers over the discolored flesh. 

_I'm so sorry, Monsieur. I did not mean for you to be hurt._ Unable to resist, Henri threaded his fingers through the dark locks of soft chestnut hair that fell across the high forehead. _So soft. So handsome._ He smiled at the nobleman's incredibly long lashes and tested their raven texture with his finger. Unbidden, his touch wandered lower, exploring the warm flesh of the Duke's naked form. The sheets that had once been wrapped around Buckingham's unconscious form had slipped down, catching low on the man's slender hips and Henri groaned with shame at the sight of the inflamed gashes on the Duke's chest. 

Leaving his chair, he went to the small dresser where a pitcher of water sat and searched through several drawers before finding a soft cloth of cotton. Collecting the porcelain container, he returned to the bed and began the task of tending to Buckingham's injuries. The Musketeer sighed as he worked, his emotions warring with his duty to his comrades. This man was the enemy and should, thus, be despised. Somehow that thought did not calm the turmoil in his heart. 

Putting the dirty cloth aside, the black soldier rested his hand on the Duke's chest and assessed the strength of the man's heartbeat. His fingers suddenly rebelled against the innocent touch and began to skim across Buckingham's warm flesh, testing the solid feel of his muscles. Licking his lips, Henri traced each nipple and remembered their sweet taste. Warning bells sounded in his mind but Henri refused to listen and moved his hand lower, following the flat planes of the Duke's abdomen, seeking out the trail of dark hair that beckoned him to search even lower. 

Without thinking, the Musketeer leaned forward and pressed a fragile kiss to the exposed shaft, his tongue savoring the Duke's salty flavor. A sudden movement and muffled howl startled Henri and he fell back in his chair, his eyes moving immediately to the Duke's face. Alert and angry brown eyes stared at him as Buckingham struggled against his bonds. The Englishman twisted his head back and forth, trying to dislodge the gag in his mouth. His frantic thrashing and garbled screams soon frightened the young Musketeer and he left his chair in order to straddle the Duke's body and keep him on the bed. 

"Quiet!" Henri whispered urgently. "Be quiet, I say! Athos will hear you." He struggled for several minutes with the combative Duke, using his greater strength to subdue him. Finally, the Englishman exhausted himself and fell back against the bed panting, his eyes still communicating the fight his body was too tired to pursue. 

Henri slowly released his hold and stroked the Duke's heaving chest in a soothing manner. "Do not fight me, please. If Athos hears you, he will come in here and we will both be in trouble." 

The Duke nodded, his body slowly relaxing under Henri's touch. The Musketeer watched as the man's eyes took on a distressing anxious look, his mouth laboring against the gag that enforced his silence. His desperate need to speak was made evident by the agitated sounds coming from his throat. 

Henri looked over his shoulder and made sure the room's door remained firmly shut. He turned back and touched the gag in Buckingham's mouth. "If you promise not to scream, I will remove this." 

Buckingham shook his head, his eyes now pleading. 

Henri reached for the ties that held the gag secure. Hesitating, he removed his hands and leaned down to whisper in the Duke's ear. "For what it is worth, I am sorry for the way I treated you. I wish--- I wish we had met under different circumstances." The black Musketeer pressed a fleeting kiss to Buckingham's bruised cheek before moving off the bed and untying the gag. He staggered backwards in disbelief at the words that spilled out of the Englishman. 

"Please. I beg you. Let me go! If you ever want to see D'Artagnan alive again, you have to let me go! Please! I have already arranged for his escape." 

Athos slammed into the room, his sword pointed threateningly at the Duke. 

**"WHAT??!!"**

* * *

End

**Author's Note:**

> Cast of characters: Athos-Jim, D'Artagnan-Blair, Porthos-Simon, Aramis-Rafe, King Louis-OC, Phillipe, King's consort-OC, Cardinal Richelieu-Garett Kincaid, Rochefort-Lee Brackett, Duke of Buckingham-Stephen Ellison, Henri Phillipe-Henri Brown, Lady de Winter-Carolyn Plummer, Rogert-OC 
> 
> 1\. This is set in a GAY universe. Most every character is GAY.  
> 2\. If you're looking for a work of literary excellence with in-depth plots and insightful thoughts from the characters, you're in the wrong place.  
> 3\. Please remember this series was written purely for fun! Romance and sex, with a little sword play thrown in for good measure--that's the way I wrote it.


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